


Finding Hyacinth

by rocketpool



Series: And the Divine, Caught like Stars in Trees [4]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, a little hurt, but the fluff probably makes up for it, collated from LJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketpool/pseuds/rocketpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo was always meant to be with Hyacinth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Hyacinth

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a collection of 3 separate comment fics that I'd written, and constitute the beginning of this crazy little verse.
> 
> The prompts were:  
> RPS, Apollo!Steve, Hyacinth petals (my grief never ends)  
> RPS, Apollo!Steve Carlson/Hyacinth!Chris Kane, Déja Vu  
> RPS, Apollo!Steve/Christian Kane, keep your ambrosia, I'll stick with whiskey  
> RPS, Apoll!Steve/Hyacinth!Chris, hands  
> Kane RPS, Apollo!Steve/Christian, let me take you there

The grave marker is long since lost to Gaia, her own gentle, silent way of telling him to move on. The venerated sanctuary, once nearly a shrine, is completely forgotten, and all but lost. If it weren’t for the poets, he is certain Hyacinthus’ name would be lost as well.  
  
But he remembers. He remembers the place, and the season, every year, without fail. It is not that he hasn’t had other lovers, hasn’t done other things. Hasn’t waged war, hasn’t healed. No, no, he has fulfilled his duties, as he always has. Even when his faithful dwindled, he fulfilled his duties. Without Hyacinthus, his duties are all he has, and quietly, personally, he added this memorial among them. To stand in the soft earth, with only sheep to stand watch, and scatter hyacinth petals like so many ashes in the wind.  
  
Grief cuts into him again, welling up fresh, and he weeps bitterly. Perhaps Gaia is right, and the others too. Perhaps it is time to set this unending memorial aside. Find another place, take another name.

  
But not today.

~~~

Christian can't help but bounce from one side of the stage to the other, greeting the crazy ass girls that have been following his quiet career for years, not to mention the bar regulars that keep insisting he play regularly. He likes Portland, it's a good town, with good people. He'll have to remember to thank Jenny sometime for talking him into coming here.  
  
Finally he extricates himself from the crowd, at least a little. Enough to sidle up to the bar, anyway, but before he can order anything, the bartender plunks a cold one down in front of him. Now, he always gets a drink when he gets off stage, but he usually starts with whiskey.  
  
"Courtesy of blondie down there," the bartender says.  
  
Chris looks down the bar, expecting one of the busty girls from the front row maybe, or that crazy bitch that shows up without fail and keeps trying to give him things. Instead he finds a man staring at him almost intently, blue eyes expectant. Once their eyes meet, the guy raises a glass, a single of something, in toast and smiles.  
  
For just a moment there's something... The way the lights hit his hair. The way his eyes sparkle, like off the water. The slightest curve of his lips... It's all so familiar, like a ray of summer sunshine.  
  
And then the moment passes, the crowd pressing in to the bar for the next round, and Chris can't see him anymore. When the crowd shifts again, the guy is gone.  
  
"Well," Chris mumbles to himself as he takes a sip of beer. "That's a first..." .

~~~

Christian looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do I want …  _what_ ?” He can’t have heard that right. From what Jensen said, Steve was a tequila man, and apparently he’d had a very long day. He looked more than a little tired, and probably more than a little drunk, but hell if he didn’t make the way he sprawled out on the bench beside him look damn good.  
  
“Ambrosia,” Steve says, drawing the word out long, the hint of some accent creeping in. He looks up at Chris, his smile a little lopsided, eyes sparkling blue even in the darkness. “‘S good. Promise.”  
  
Chris eyes the drink skeptically. It’s a lowball glass, only half full now of a green-gold liquid that catches the light, on the rocks with a small sliver of some kind of fruit. It strikes him as a bit of a girly mixed drink, maybe, and Chris isn’t much in the mood for tequila. “That’s alright, man. You keep your ambrosia, I’ll stick to my whiskey.”  
  
There’s a flash of disappointment in Steve’s eyes, but he shrugs. “Maybe next time.” He tips the rest of the drink back, swallowing the ambrosia and the fruit both.  
  
Chris swallows hard, watching the way Steve’s throat moves, and downs some of his whiskey to cover for it. “Yeah. Maybe.”

~~~

Christian can't help but stare. Steve's playing is good -- alright, so he's pretty fucking awesome starting from the moment he sets foot on stage. The way his hair catches the light, his presence, his voice (god, his voice...). The way he tips his head back, as though there's nothing at all between him and the music. Not that he's on stage now, of course, though it doesn't seem to change anything about the way Steve looks when he picks up a guitar.  
  
But still, what Chris' eyes are drawn to again and again are his hands. The way his left hand curls around the neck, fingers sliding over the strings, his other hand plucking and pulling music from the chords. The way they move is so confident it's intoxicating.  
  
Steve smiles knowingly as he curls over the guitar, as he gives in to the music. As he puts words to the sound.  


~~~

"So. You're... actually... and... from...with... and...actually, really..." Christian stutters out and blinks, eyes a little wide, more from shock than fear, at least.  
  
"Greece, yes," Steve says, unable to help the hopeful tinge to his voice, "and you should let me take you there."  
  
"Yeah," Chris says faintly, but as he drops into his seat, it's thigh to thigh with Steve, leaning into him.


End file.
